


Better Than Your Right Hand

by neversaydie



Series: 500 Follower Fic Fest [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Artist Steve Rogers, Canon Disabled Character, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nude Modeling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4639827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the next life drawing class rolls around on Thursday, to say Steve's pretty excited would be an understatement. </p><p>His right hand might have got a workout this week, considering how he can't get blue eyes and those abs out of his mind, so he's doing everything he can not to blow his chance at getting some action that doesn't make his wrist cramp. He braved the barber, he let his roommate put a 'cleansing face mask' on him, and he even put his contacts in tonight instead of the usual giant glasses he wears to draw. </p><p>He's been jerking off enough over Bucky that he'll probably go blind anyway, he can deal with squinting if it gives him a better chance of getting someone else to touch his dick. </p><p>[Sequel to Life Drawing]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Your Right Hand

**Author's Note:**

> For the wonderful beingoddish, who helped my cat get better after his car accident by suggesting something the vet missed. Thank you so much.

When the next life drawing class rolls around on Thursday, to say Steve's pretty excited would be an understatement.

His right hand might have got a workout this week, considering how he can't get blue eyes and _those_ abs out of his mind, so he's doing everything he can not to blow his chance at getting some action that doesn't make his wrist cramp. He braved the barber and ended up with some kind of obnoxious cross between a hipster undercut and a traditional short back-and-sides, he let his roommate put a 'cleansing face mask' on him (Natasha swears the pictures will never make it to Facebook), and he even put his contacts in tonight instead of the usual giant glasses he wears to draw.

He's been jerking off enough over Bucky that he'll probably go blind anyway, he can deal with squinting if it gives him a better chance of getting someone else to touch his dick.

Bucky's arrival to class (late and fully-dressed) takes a little bit of the lead out of Steve's pencil. There are dark circles bruised under the guy's eyes as he mumbles an apology to the teacher and ducks into the bathroom to get changed. When he comes back and lets the teacher pose him before he drops his robe, there's a listlessness to his movements that wasn't there last week. The memorable blue eyes are dull, when Steve catches them, but Bucky twitches a smile at him anyway.

The dog tags are gone this week. Steve's not sure why that makes him even more convinced that something's not quite right. His sketch is less refined this time, and the teacher comments on the simmering violence that lies under his pencil strokes when she comes round to him. Steve mumbles something that sounds smart and hopes Bucky isn't listening, he's probably not if the weary stare is anything to go by. It makes Steve's chest clench.

As soon as class is over, Bucky's grabbing his clothes and ducking back into the bathroom to change. Steve hangs around and fidgets for at least fifteen minutes before he gives in and knocks on the door, pushing inside when Bucky calls out that it's open and clutching the strap on his messenger bag nervously.

"Hey, you still up for tonight?"

"Hey. Sure, sorry I'm taking so long." Bucky looks up with a tired but toothy smile that lights up his whole face. "Sorry, I got all the way to adulthood but dressing myself is still a struggle."

"No problem. You should see me trying to cook for myself." Steve can't help smiling back, not when he's faced with that expression.

"Bet you gotta stand on a box to reach the cupboards." Bucky adjusts his jacket sleeve over his partial arm, shoving the empty end back into the pocket where it's come unpinned again.

"Fuck you."

The back and forth is playful, and Steve keeps it light when he narrows his eyes at a smirking Bucky as he flops down to put his shoes on. He's not convinced the guy is okay, not with the slightly unsteady way he's going about everything, but it's not like he didn't tell Steve last time that's he's not exactly a hundred percent all the time. Steve's eyes roam over Bucky freely, taking in the fact he looks about as damn good in clothes as he does naked.

Shit, he really hopes Bucky's in a good enough place for like, a lot of sex.

"Did you forget socks?" Steve realises Bucky's trying to shove his bare feet back into his battered boots and frowns. "I got spares in my bag if you want 'em."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. It's been kind of a weird day." Bucky quirks a smile as Steve goes hunting in his bag for the neatly-paired gym socks that are always there. "Why the hell do you have spare socks?"

"I always lost mine somehow when I was a kid, my Ma made me take spares everywhere. Guess I got into the habit." Steve tosses the socks over and his cheeks heat up at the look Bucky's giving him. "What?"

"That's fuckin' adorable."

"Shut up." The blush intensifies and Bucky laughs hoarsely as he sits back down to put the borrowed socks on. "Who the fuck forgets to wear socks anyway?"

"I literally rolled outta bed to come here." Bucky shrugs. Steve doesn't say anything about the fact that this is an evening class, because he figures after Bucky's comments about his fucked up brain that he might be stepping on some landmines. "My roommate's dog got sick last night and he was outta town, so I was up until the vet opened at eight. Then I had to clean up the whole… yeah. Didn't get much sleep."

"Oh." It takes a second for Steve to mask his surprise that it was something so mundane, compared to what he'd been expecting, and Bucky's face falls the moment he sees the expression.

"You thought it was the fucked up brain thing, right?" He shoves his feet into his boots viciously, and Steve marvels silently at how dextrous he is to tie shoelaces one-handed. "It's called PTSD. I'm not fucked up all the time."

"I didn't say that." Steve follows him as Bucky stands up and pushes out of the bathroom, not sure if he's expecting him to come with or not. "Hey, c'mon."

"You don't have to go for a drink with me because you feel sorry for me, y'know." Bucky's a really fast walker and Steve's short legs are seriously struggling to keep a couple of steps behind him. "Really. One girl slept with me right after I lost my arm to _thank me for my service_. If you're doing that then I don't wanna know."

"Buck. _Bucky_." Steve grabs his elbow to finally make him stop. He's obviously pushed some buttons here but he really, really thinks he likes this guy and he's not letting him go that easy. "That's not what I'm doing. I was just… being prepared."

"Like the socks, boy scout?" There's no sharpness to the statement, Bucky's actually looking at him like he's curious, like the concept of someone trying to anticipate or accommodate his PTSD is foreign.

"Yep, like my goddamn socks." Steve rolls his eyes and the honesty of the gesture makes Bucky's tight shoulders relax. "Look, you're hot. I'm gonna get carpel tunnel unless I stop thinking about you or we fuck. It's up to you which one happens, but I'd kinda like it to be the second one, if it's all the same."

There's a long moment where Steve thinks he's fucked this up, but then Bucky shakes his head, looking at him like he's something unique and maybe even… precious.

"Can't promise how good I'll be." Bucky shrugs, the ghost of a cocky smile twitching at the corner of his mouth and making Steve's stomach flip just like it did the first time he saw it. "But it's gotta be better than your right hand."

Steve blushes bright red to the roots of his hair, and Bucky laughs for real this time. Definitely better than his right hand.

Maybe even better than his fleshlight, but that's a conversation for another time.


End file.
